


Late night rehearsals

by Death_inspiresme



Series: rom howney fics [1]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Age Difference, Consensual Sex, Dirty Talk, I Ship It, M/M, Not Underage, Older Man/Younger Man, Oops, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Roleplaying Character, Sexual Roleplay, Sexual Tension, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2018-04-21
Packaged: 2019-04-25 19:56:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14385996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Death_inspiresme/pseuds/Death_inspiresme
Summary: It's one in the morning, Tom's being his usual cheeky self, and Robert finds his self-control wearing thin; while rehearsing the rooftop scene things get a little out of hand.





	Late night rehearsals

**Author's Note:**

> This fandom seriously lacks rom howney fics, so I took it upon myself to write out this piece of utter porn. Blame it on all the pictures of the two of them in the Shanghai Infinity War tour, this had to be done ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

 

   "It's late, Tom. Can we just continue this tomorrow?" He sighs, tossing his scripts onto the island table and rubbing the permanent crease between his eyebrows. A bleary glance at the clock reveals that it's almost midnight.

   The younger man's sprawled on one of his chairs, leafing through the stacks of paper in his arms with increasing irritation. They've been endlessly running lines for hours; practicing their scenes for the filming day coming up soon. It would be the first time Robert does a scene with him, and Tom seems to be taking it really seriously-- a little _too_ seriously.

   Rolling his eyes at the lack of response, he leans forward to pluck the script from Tom's hands. "Hey!" Tom protests, shooting him such a scandalized look Robert can't help but chuckle. "Give it back!"  
  
   "Nope," he replies, popping the 'p'. "We're both exhausted, and we should get some rest."

   "You can't make me," Tom grumbles, reaching up with grabby hands for his papers, and Robert scoffs.

   "Uh, I think I can kick you off my own trailer if I want to," he points out, watching as the boy sticks his bottom lip out in a ridiculous-- ~~and okay, adorable~~ \-- pout.

   "Aww, I just wanna practice a few more lines!" Groaning, Robert was about to say something to resist when Tom starts to peer up at him through thick, tangled lashes; hazel eyes wide and pleading. "Please, Robert? Pleeaseee?"

    _Shit_. He struggles to swallow the sudden lump in his throat, choking him from the inside out-- all too soon the air between them becomes tense, heavy. He's too tired right now to deal with this crap, to deal with the dirtybadwrong feelings he has whenever his younger coworker pulls those faces; always so pretty and expressive.

   It's got to be on purpose. There's a little glint in those liquid eyes now as they watch him carefully, dark pupils dilated ever so slightly.

   It's not fair.

   "Alright, fine," Robert manages to grate out. "A little more. Then we're going to bed. Got it?"

   "Got it," Tom replies, expression immediately melting into one of mischief at him giving in. A pink tongue pokes out of the corner of his lips as the boy jumps to his feet, sidling up to him-- and Robert's eyes definitely does not flick down towards that red mouth. (He also definitely does _not_ think about how close the two of them are right now.) But then those thin lips curls up into a little smile as Tom leans forward, voice dipping into a low and sultry tone. "Your bed, or mine?"

   Robert nearly chokes on his own spit. "My... wha--," he sputters, feeling his face flush with embarrassment; and the little minx giggles, deftly plucking the papers out of his stiff fingers before stepping back and widening the distance between them.

   "Just kidding! Lighten up, old man."

   Jaw still hanging open, he snaps it shut, heart racing so fast he hears it pounding in his ears. He's still reeling with disbelief at what just happened as the teenager flips through his script, eyes scanning the pages.

   This boy will be the death of him. Clearing his throat, Robert runs a hand through his uncombed hair. "Okay.  
What scene do we work with?"

   "The rooftop scene," Tom announces. "That's definitely the hardest."

   For _fuck's_ sake.

   Taking a deep breath, he nods, then grabs his own script as they settle into position.

   

   "Is everyone okay?" Tom starts his line, and despite the circumstances Robert can't help but marvel at how easily he slips into character, voice pitching higher into one of a teenager, shoulders curling forward a little; eyes darkening with conflict.

   "No thanks to _you_."

   "No thanks to me?" Tom, or rather Peter, repeats. "Those weapons were out there and I tried to tell you about it, but you didn't listen! None of this would have happened if you had just... listened to me!" His eyes turn cold, voice breaking a little as he steps forward, hurt etched plainly on his face. He lets out a stiff laugh, spits, "if you even cared you'd actually be here."

   His turn. Squaring his shoulders, he stalks forward, cornering the boy as he shuffles backwards. "I did listen kid. Who do you think called the FBI, huh? D'you know that I was the only one who believed in you? Everyone else thought I was crazy to recruit a fourteen year old--"

   "I'm fifteen," Tom mutters; his back hits the wall behind him. At this distance the shorter teen has to look up to meet Robert's eyes, peering through his lashes as they lock gazes.

   "No," Robert growls, and in one swift move steps forward to slam an arm on the wall Tom's leaning against, caging the boy in. Tom jumps in surprise, a delicious gasp escaping his lips; his sweet breath fans across his cheek. They're close, much too close-- but god, Robert can't find it in himself to move away. "This is where you zip it, alright? The adult is talking."

   Tom sticks out his chin, but Robert can see him quivering slightly. He licks his lips, and the boy's hooded eyes follow his tongue.

   "What if somebody had died tonight? Different story, right? 'Cause that's on you. And if you die-- I'd feel like that's on me. I don't need that on my conscience."

   "Yes, sir," Tom breathes, the words rolling so scandalously over his tongue. "I'm sorry."

   They pause, only bated breath filling the silence between them. Then, very gingerly, Tom presses his warm palms to the older man's chest, fingers digging into the soft material of his grey tee shirt, and Robert growls in response, hips jerking forward to shove his thigh between the boy's legs. Tom lets out a short mewl then, eyelids fluttering shut, and the hardness pressed between their bodies nearly makes him lose it right then and there.

   "Tom," he groans, low and deep. He needs to make sure. Needs to ask before he loses all control, with the pretty boy practically writhing underneath him, slowly grinding against his thigh. "Tom, _shit_ , are you--"

   "Please," Tom whimpers, voice sounding so wrecked already. His lashes are damp, and red indentations on his bottom lip shows how hard he had bit it. He looks like the embodiment of sin, pleading so beautifully. "Please just, just do it, Robert please... I need you."

  
   As soon as the words fall from his lips Robert's finally slamming their mouths together in a fiery kiss. Tom melts into his touch, arms moving to wrap around his shoulders, pull him even closer, hands sliding up his neck to tug at his hair; whining when Robert nips his lip in retaliation. "Oh god."

   Hungry hands slide over the teen's lithe body, running over his waist, grab the round globes of his ass to yank him closer. Tom follows his lead, hitching his legs up to wrap around his hips, ankles locking behind his back in a swift move; and Robert breaks the kiss for a second to stare at the boy in amazement.

   Pretty flush covering the tips of his ears, colouring his cheeks, Tom grins shyly. "What? I did gymnastics."

   "Thank fuck for that," he says, steadying his grip before grinding his hips up in a rough circular motion, watching Tom's eyes roll to the back of his head. "Wonder just how flexible you are."

   "Let's find out," Tom says impatiently, clumsy fingers reaching down to tug at his pants. "Come on, fuck me."

   " _Jesus_ , kid," Robert groans, and it takes every bit of his willpower to pull away. "Just-- hold on okay, look, as much as I would love to do this here, I'm old--"

   "And so goddamn hot," Tom cuts him off, panting from his slumped position against his wall. He looks wrecked already, and ridiculously Robert feels a fierce burst of pride that it was because of him. "Bring me to your bed and fuck me there, then."

   "Are you always this vulgar?" he asks, but they're already stumbling to his bedroom, bodies fumbling together as they fall onto the mattress. Tom's yanking the hem of his shirt up, his head getting stuck in the fabric in the rush to get it off, and Robert huffs out a laugh. He then tugs off his own shirt in one swift motion, kicks off his pants; when he's done Tom's shirtless, wild hair strewn messily over his pillows, long legs already tangling in the sheets-- fingers bunching in the blankets as he twists under his heavy gaze.

   "You're gorgeous," Robert whispers, leaning down to press a kiss over a sharp collarbone, hands running over Tom's bare chest. "Look at you, so pretty for me."

   "You're not so bad yourself," Tom mumbles, blushing from the praise and it shouldn't be as adorable as it is. Then his lips close around a pink nipple, and he's rewarded with the teen arching violently off the bed, and a choked-off cry. "Someone's sensitive," he teases, fingers reaching up to pinch the nub.

   "St-- stop teasing!"

   "Maybe if you ask me nicely," he quips, attention slipping back to Tom's pale neck, tongue running over the column of it, drawing out a sob.

_"Please, Mr. Stark!"_

   Jesus Christ, he did not expect that. Pulling back, he looks at Tom, takes in his mortified expression, cheeks now flushing a bright red. "Oh crap, was that... I'm sorry, just forget I said that--"

   Robert cuts off the endless ramble of words with a fiery kiss, tongue slipping in between the other's lips to run across his teeth, taste the coffee Tom had drank earlier; when he finally pulls back there's a thin trail of spittle connecting their lips together.

   "Say that again," he commands, and Tom hesitates. So he leans closer, breathes into his ear, "tell me what you want, _Peter_."

   That tears a whimper out of him, a high-pitched needy sound. "Mr. Stark," he begs. "Please, touch me, I need you to touch me."

   "Alright, baby. Take off your pants." Scrambling to obey, the teen unzips his jeans, kicks them off; his underwear follow soon after. And then he's completely naked, bare for him to see, a pretty sight spread out on his bed. "God, you're absolutely perfect."

   Reaching over to his nightstand, Robert yanks open the bottom drawer, pulls out the lube and condom. "Have you done this before?"

   "By myself, yeah," Tom admits, looking smaller than ever pressed into the large bed, chest rising and falling with quick breaths as he watches Robert uncap the bottle of lube, coat a generous amount over his fingers. Then the familiar cheeky glint comes back in those eyes as his voice hitches higher, "I think about you everytime, Tony."

  That little shit-- is this a kink? It totally is, right? Either way he finds himself loving all of it way too much. Alright then, two can play at that game.

   "Did I say you can call me that?" he growls, grinding his hips down so that their cocks finally touch, giving the delicious friction they both crave, and Tom actually lets out a sob.

  "Ah, 'm sorry Mr. Stark--" and just like that the boy is coming, arching off the bed as he spills white and hot over his own chest, Robert watching in wonder as he falls apart so beautifully. Panting, Tom looks back at him with glassy eyes, then reaches down to touch him. "Wait, here, let me..."

   "Don't," Robert groans; pulling his arms away and pinning them above his head, he presses a kiss to Tom's forehead. "Wanna come inside you." At the other man's eager whine of response, he slips a hand under the covers, trails it over lean inner thighs. When his lube-slicked fingers finally touch that puckered hole Tom lets out a soft breath. Trailing gently around the rim, Robert pushes a finger in, carefully watching the for any signs of discomfort on his coworker's face. As he finally sinks knuckle deep, they both take in rattling breaths, Robert dropping his head forward to groan against his chest. " _Shit_ , Peter, you're so tight and wet for me."

   "More," Tom pleads, and so he slowly inserts another finger. They continue like this until the teen's whimpering with pleasure, and when Robert experimentally curls two fingers a sharp cry rips from Tom's throat, hips jerking upwards to urge him closer. "Mmm, _yes_ , right there, please--"

   "What do you want?"

   "Need you," he whines. "I'm ready, come on, just put it in me already."

   Ripping open the packet with his teeth, the older man rolls the condom onto his hard, leaking cock. Nudging Tom's legs further apart, he settles in between them, adjusting himself so that the tip of his cock presses against the boy's entrance. "You okay?"

   "Yeah, just-- stop _stopping_ ," is the huff he gets in response.

   "Impatient," Robert murmurs, and Tom opens his mouth in indignation, about to retort when he finally drives his hips forward, sliding into that warm, wet heat. Fuck, he feels good. The little gymnast swings his legs up, hooks bony ankles around his waist, lips parting around wordless moans. They continue like this, gently rocking back and forth, until Tom shifts his hips a little and Robert sinks in fully to the hilt.

  "Ohmygod," Tom gasps. " _Unhh_ , so big, feel so filled up," and just like that Robert loses all control, starting to properly fuck the boy with steady thrusts; he dives forward to capture that swollen mouth, swallowing all the sharp cries. Soon they set up a rhythm, bodies rocking fluidly against each other, the only sounds filling the room coming from slapping skin, and ragged breaths. Tom's dragging his fingernails down his back so hard there's sure to be red welts tomorrow, but he can't find it in himself to care-- lost in the primal pleasure of the moment, in the glazed dark eyes that peer up at him. He's perfect.

   "I'm gonna fuck you so hard, you want that? Practically begging for my cock, you little tease," Robert growls, hips snapping faster, words spilling past his lips. "Is this what you hoped will happen, Peter? Wanted me to pin you down and have my way with you."

  "Y-- yes, _please_ , Mr. Stark, feel so good." A sharp thrust drives the boy up the bed, mattress springs creaking noisily under their combined weight. Tom's wrapped both arms around his shoulders, breaths falling fast and hot against his ear. "Wanted you... wanted for so long."

   " _Shit_ ," Robert hisses. Grunting, he moves to sit on his hunches, shifting the boy until he's leaning against the headboard. This angle allows him to sink even deeper, drawing groans from the both of them; making it easier for him to reach down and tug on Tom's weeping cock. Tom yelps, then bucks desperately into his tight grip. "That's it, such a good boy. So perfect."

   "Always," he gasps. "Please, I'm gonna--"

   "Come for me, Peter," he growls, and the boy obeys, coming all over his hand, clenching so deliciously around his cock; with one final thrust he stills, spilling himself deep within those warm velvety walls.

  
   They slump against each other, basking in the afterglow; desperately trying to catch their breaths. With a low groan, Tom disentangles his legs from around Robert. He's grinning stupidly, flush still high on his cheeks. "Holy shit, that was awesome."

   "Well, it certainly was something," Robert scoffs, wincing as he pulls himself away, unrolling the condom off and tossing it to the wastebasket. Tom flops gracelessly back onto bed with a sigh, looking up at him with bright brown eyes before grabbing his hand. "Hey, _what--"_ His throat goes dry as the boy licks across his palm with a pink, lithe tongue, cleaning up the leftover come; wrapping his lips around his fingers and sucking the sticky fluid away. When he finally pulls away with an obscene pop, Robert stares at him incredulously.

   "You're unbelievable."

   "In a good way, or..." Tom asks, hint of hesitance in his tone.

   "Good," he quickly reassures, settling down beside him, playfully tugging at his sex-mussed hair. "You're perfect."

  Coyness slipping back to his features, he purrs, "only for you, Mr. Stark."

   "For fuck's sake--" Tom laughs, dodging the light punch to his shoulder. "How in the hell are we supposed to film those scenes together now?" Robert laments. "We'll be following the scripts, the cameras are rolling, then _boom_. Tony Stark has a fucking erection while talking to a fifteen year old."

   Tom laughs hysterically. "Peter Parker's gonna sound like he's totally _begging_ for it now."

   "Not funny. We probably ruined the whole movie, just because you're a kinky little bastard."

   "Oh, like you didn't enjoy it," Tom quips back, smiling wide, and Robert shuts him up by pulling him in for another kiss.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This might become a series woops


End file.
